


you play with the light of the universe

by atlas (songs)



Category: orange - 高野苺 | Takano Ichigo
Genre: F/M, orange from Suwa's POV basically LOL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 05:06:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4733780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songs/pseuds/atlas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Suwa loves Naho the same way he loves mornings: easily, and without thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you play with the light of the universe

**Author's Note:**

> poem + title by pablo neruda

_I go so far as to think that you own the universe._  
I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells,  
dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.

 

i.

 

Suwa loves Naho the same way he loves mornings: easily, and without thought. Naho is springtimes by the forest, Sundays in the park. She is the bony girl who shared her snacks in kindergarten, the blushing girl who stumbled often, who let him hold her hand.

 

 He isn’t sure when the word  _love_ comes into play. It’s like breathing, after all.  _I love Naho,_ he realizes, one day, years after the fact. And the rest is history.

 

ii.

 

Then, the letter comes. It tells Suwa about a boy, about a future without him.  _Kakeru Naruse._ A sharp name, all dips and consonants. But the boy behind it is rather soft, if a little sad. Lonely.

 

 _Come home with us,_ Suwa says, one morning in April, and with that, he seals his fate.

 

Later, he will realize his mistake. Later, he will regret. Later, the letter will inform him: of a bike-accident, a lifetime with Naho, a lifetime without Kakeru. 

 

 _I’m sorry,_ Suwa cannot say, when Kakeru returns, after two weeks of absence. His expression is listless, beneath the half-smile.  _I’m so, so, so—_

iii.

 

“You’re interested in Kakeru, aren’t you?”

 

Naho flushes ruby-red, down to her neck. Her gaze flits back and forth, wet beneath her lashes. 

 

Suwa stares down at the girl he’s loved for all time. She murmurs something under her breath, before rushing down the school corridor.

 

He smiles a quiet smile. To her back, he promises:

 

_I’ll help you._

 

iv.

 

Suwa does not expect himself to care much for Kakeru. He expects it to be a grudging duty, if anything. But it’s not.

 

It’s  _not._

 

Kakeru is neither frail nor strong. He’s somewhere in between, a limbo-sort-of boy, treading over glass bravery and crescent laughter. Suwa delves into all this for Naho, and resurfaces with a gentleness he would have never predicted. For Kakeru. For Naruse Kakeru.

 

_I’ll save you._

 

In autumn, he scans the town flower-shop for a bouquet. Thinks back to the letter from himself.

 

_Recognize the feelings Kakeru and Naho have for each other._

Taka’s voice sweeps to the forefront of his mind:  _You’re a fool._

v.

 

_Have you ever wanted to die?_

_Every day. Every, every day._

Suwa lurches forward, coils his arms around the other boy.

 

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

 

vi.

 

Later, at home, Suwa drops his bag onto the floor, crumples by the curve of his bed.

 

 _It’s my fault,_ he thinks.  _If only I hadn’t invited him. It’s my fault. My—_

vii.

 

“You don’t need to be a martyr,” Taka tells him.

 

“I know,” Suwa says, and he means it. “I’m not.”

 

viii.

 

Kakeru and Naho step around each other like a love-story in reverse. Suwa thinks,  _They’ll get there._ Thinks,  _I’ll make sure of it._

On New Year’s Eve, with Naho in his arms, he says—

 

“Go.”

 

ix.

 

_You didn’t do anything wrong, you didn’t do anything wrong, you didn’t do anything wrong._

x.

 

“I love you,” Naho says, on Valentine’s Day. Suwa watches from afar, a gentle smile on his face. Kakeru’s hands wind into hers.

 

Suwa has dreamt those words, in that voice, for as long as he could remember. But here, and now, there is a lightness to him, a lilt to his heart that he will later ( _much, much later)_ recognize as peace.

 

Suwa whispers, to himself, “ _I’m glad._ ”

 

xi.

 

“It was… my fault?”

 

Naho starts to stammer: “No, you didn’t—” but Suwa interrupts, a hitch in his voice, kindled with pleading.

 

“Yes,” he hisses, clutching Kakeru by the shoulders.  _Please understand. Please, please let this get to him._ “It was. It was. So, I swear to God, if you die, I’ll never forgive you.”

 

_I’m not letting you go._

Kakeru breathes out, “I’m sorry,” and Suwa, for the first time in a long time, does not think,  _Me, too._

xii.

 

Suwa ambles into his bedroom, hums along the edges of a song. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he opens the top-drawer of his bureau, pulls out a white ream of paper.

 

 _To Suwa,_ it says, in pretty, dotted handwriting.

 

“This is the last time,” he mumbles, unfolding the page. The paper is crumpled from over-handling, over-use. Again, he says, “Last time,” and goes on to read:

 

_No matter where I am, what world I’m in, I’ll always love you._

_Thank you for all you’ve done._

-        _Naho_

 

xiii.

 

The next morning, Kakeru and Naho are holding hands, blushing all throughout the day.

 

Kakeru catches his eye, and there’s a glint of gratitude. He smiles, then, for real, and Suwa matches it in kind. 

 

xiv.

 

Suwa walks outside, breathes in the brisk air. No exams this week. On Saturday, there’s a soccer game. Naho does not cry anymore. Kakeru is alive. Azu and Hagita shared bread, in the school courtyard. Taka laughs often. Suwa laughs often.

 

He is content.


End file.
